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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526343">As Long As You Love Me So</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine'>eternaleponine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Let It Snow [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a snowstorm and power outage threw them together last Christmas, Clarke and Lexa navigate what comes next for them, with some big surprises along the way.</p><p>For Heather, who requested a follow up to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905605/chapters/52284688">And The Lights Are Turned Way Down Low</a> as part of my Will Write For Votes campaign.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Let It Snow [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>294</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>As Long As You Love Me So</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bosaunt/gifts">bosaunt</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Don't go," Lexa said, draping herself across Clarke's lap so she couldn't get up from the couch.  "Stay."</p><p>Clarke smiled, combing her fingers through Lexa's hair.  "It's a school night," she said, her tone teasing.  </p><p>Lexa snorted.  "You know you're the teacher, right?  You get to make the rules.  Which means you can have a sleepover any time you want – even on a school night."  </p><p>"I have to get up early," Clarke said, which was a more valid argument.  </p><p>"We'll set an alarm," Lexa said.  She poked out her lower lip.  "Please?"</p><p>Clarke might have been able to say no to her, but then Hope got up from her bed by the fire and came over, resting her chin on the little bit of knee that Lexa wasn't occupying and turning her big brown eyes on Clarke, and she knew she wasn't going home that night.  </p><p>"<i>Fine,</i>" she said, scratching both Lexa and Hope's heads.  </p><p>Lexa grinned triumphantly and held up her hand to the dog, who lifted her paw to press against it in a high five.  It was one of any number of tricks Lexa had taught her over the past few months, as they'd watched her transition from a roly-poly ball of golden fluff to a gangly, awkward teenage dog who was all legs and tail, waiting for the rest of her body to catch up.  </p><p>"Good girl, Hope," Clarke said.  The dog twisted her head to look at Clarke, running her tongue out in a wide doggy smile, then turned her attention back to Lexa, checking in with her for confirmation that she was, in fact, a good girl.</p><p>"You're the best girl," Lexa said, rubbing her silky ears and leaning over to press a kiss to her nose.  </p><p>"Hey!" Clarke said with feigned indignance.  </p><p>"You're not a girl," Lexa said.  </p><p>"What am I, then?" Clarke asked.  </p><p>Lexa reached up and hooked her hand around the back of Clarke's neck, pulling her down into a kiss.  "Mine."</p>
<hr/><p>Lexa watched Clarke leave for work, standing on the stoop while Hope sniffed around for the perfect place to pee, and it felt like a part of herself was leaving with her.  She knew – because her therapist told her – that when you started a relationship after a long period of near-complete isolation, especially when one had a history of trauma and loss, it was easy to make that person your entire world, and that that wasn't healthy for anyone involved.  Lexa didn't think she was doing that, but then, what did she know about relationships?  </p><p>Everyone she loved – except Clarke – was dead.  </p><p><i>And Luna,</i> she reminded herself.  <i>Luna is still alive.  She's still out there... somewhere.</i></p><p>Unless she wasn't and Lexa was just deluding herself.  But she had no evidence that Luna <i>wasn't</i> alive, so for once she chose to believe in the best-case scenario.  Or a better case scenario, anyway.  </p><p>Her therapist also told her she needed to find things to do to keep herself busy.  It was much easier not to sink into deep, dark holes of depression if she had other things to occupy her mind.  Theoretically she could look for a job, but she could get by on the money she received as a disabled veteran, and despite what she'd been told when she'd enlisted, the army hadn't given her the skills she needed to thrive – or even function – in the real world.  Clarke had suggested once that maybe she could go to school – disabled or not, she still qualified for the GI Bill – but Lexa couldn't imagine sitting in classes with a bunch of fresh-faced, clueless kids.  The mere thought of being around dozens or hundreds of people she didn't know was enough to send her heartrate sky-high.  </p><p>Hope came and sat at her feet, nosing into her palm and leaning against her leg, whining until Lexa tore her gaze away from the horizon to look down at her, then kneel.  She pressed her forehead against the pup's and gave her neck a good scratch.  "I know," she said.  "I need to do <i>something</i>."  </p><p>But what?</p><p>She considered going inside to get Hope's leash to take her for a walk, but that might mean running into neighbors and having to make small talk, and she wasn't in the mood.  So she took her around to the back yard and tossed a ball for her, picking up sticks and branches that had fallen over the course of the winter and gathering them into a pile in between throws.  They were mostly pine and no good for the wood stove, but if she built a fire pit out back they would be fine for roasting marshmallows over.  </p><p>After a while, Hope forgot they were playing fetch and sprawled out in the shade, chewing on her ball.  Lexa took the opportunity to finish cleaning up the winter's detritus.  When she had gathered up the last wayward twig, she pressed her hands into her lower back and stretched.  A fire pit was certainly a place to start, but it wouldn't take very long – an afternoon, maybe two – and then what?  </p><p>A place for Clarke to do art, perhaps?  She could build her a little studio, there in the back where it got the best sun... but then she'd have to run water to it, because surely Clarke would want a sink, and electricity because there were plenty of times during the year where the sun would only be strong enough to see by for a few hours a day.  And she would have to come up with a way to heat it in the winter that wouldn't be a fire hazard.</p><p><i>It would be easier to put it in the house,</i> she thought, but where?  The best she could do in the space they had was to carve out a little corner, which couldn't even begin to compare to the setup Clarke had in the second bedroom across the street.  The room that was the main excuse Clarke gave for going back to her own place, along with, 'It's silly for me to pay for a place where I never spend any time.'</p><p>And she was right.  It <i>was</i> silly for her to pay for a place where she rarely slept.  Sometimes they went over there to watch TV or a movie, if they wanted a bigger screen than a laptop or tablet could provide, but when it came time to start thinking about tucking themselves in for the night, they always went back to Lexa's place.  They'd tried spending the night at Clarke's only once, and it had been an unmitigated disaster.  Lexa had struggled to fall asleep, unused to the sounds the house made as it settled, and when she finally did, it was short-lived.  Nightmares plagued her, and waking up in a place she didn't recognize had sent her into a full-blown panic attack.  It had taken the joint efforts of Clarke and Hope to bring her back down to what passed for normal.  Lexa had half-expected Clarke to ask her to leave and not come back, that her inability to leave her comfort zone for a single night would be the last straw.  But Clarke had only led her by the hand (once she was lucid and oriented enough to walk) across the street, and curled tight around her in Lexa's bed, pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder and jaw until her quickened breath had nothing to do with fear.  </p><p>In the morning, she'd called the VA to ask if there was anything she could do to get bumped up on the list to see a therapist, because she was finally ready to put in the work to start to heal the psychic wounds she'd allowed to fester for far too long.</p><p>That had been several months ago, and she'd made some progress, but not as much as she would have liked.  Her therapist kept telling her that there was no silver bullet, no magic wand that would make her problems disappear.  Lexa always responded that someone should get on that, because soldiers weren't known for their patience.  Her therapist just rolled her eyes and gave her a look that said she wasn't funny.  </p><p>It was one of the things Lexa liked about her.  One of the things that had been missing in everyone else she'd seen or talked to: a sense of humor and the ability to call Lexa on her bullshit.  </p><p>But she really would have liked a fairy godmother to descend and bibbidi-bobbidi-boo it all away.</p><p>Lexa frowned at the house, reaching for her collar out of habit, only to be reminded that the chain and tags were no longer there.  Her fingers twitched, itching to twist themselves up in metal until they throbbed with trapped blood, the pain anchoring her—</p><p>A pair of muddy paws landed on her arm where it crossed over her middle, and Lexa blinked and sighed.  "I know," she said.  "Good girl."  She sat down on the damp grass and buried her fingers in Hope's coat, digging them deep like she was giving her a little doggy massage, and Hope lolled her tongue out and rolled over so she would do her belly, too.  "Goofy girl," Lexa said, smiling even though she still didn't have a solution to the problem that had been nagging at her for weeks.</p><p>If a shed wouldn't work, and she didn't have enough space, and spending more time at Clarke's place was out of the question...</p><p>But she was assuming Clarke would even want a studio here.  She was assuming that, if given an alternative, Clarke would give up what she already had.  Which was a pretty big assumption to make.  Maybe Clarke liked having her own place.  Maybe she needed it, to get away from Lexa and all of the baggage that came with her.  Maybe she liked the space, and the light, and all of the things she had that Lexa didn't.  Even if it was silly, maybe it was what she wanted, or needed.  </p><p>Lexa looked at the house again, seeing things that weren't there... but they could be, if she wanted it badly enough.  </p><p>She looked and looked, biting the inside of her lip until she tasted blood, then cursed herself because she knew she would regret it later when she kept biting the same spot when she didn't mean to, and Clarke wasn't here to kiss it better.  </p><p>But she could be.</p><p>"Hope, come," she said, pushing herself to her feet and heading for the house to get her keys, and Hope's leash and vest, before she lost her nerve.</p>
<hr/><p>"You could come with me," Clarke said, skimming her fingers over the ridged skin above Lexa's navel and making her shiver.  She already knew the answer would be no, because she'd already asked, but maybe Lexa had reconsidered.  </p><p>"I can't," Lexa said.  She reached down and wrapped her fingers around Clarke's wrist, gently extricating it from under her shirt and bringing it to her lips to kiss her fingertips.  "Maybe someday... but I'm not ready for that.  Not yet."  </p><p>Clarke sighed and nodded, her chin digging into Lexa's shoulder.  "I'll miss you," she said.  </p><p>"I'll miss you too," Lexa said.  "More than—"  She stopped herself, lines forming between her brows, her lips pinching together like she had to physically hold back whatever she'd been about to say.  </p><p>Clarke didn't try to fill in the blank.  She wasn't sure she wanted to.  Because she wanted to go... not home.  Not anymore.  <i>Here</i> was home, or it was beginning to be.  But back.  Back to visit her friends, and her mom.  Back to familiar places and faces... although there were so few people here that she was starting to think she'd seen all of their faces at least twice, even if she didn't have names to attach to allow of them.  Just for a little while.</p><p>Lexa knew that, right?  That it was just for a little while?  That she was coming back?  The school district had extended her contract for another year, and had even given her a little bump in pay, which she took to mean they were pleased with the work she'd done... but maybe they were just worried they would lose her to a bigger district who could offer better benefits, and didn't want to have to go to the trouble of finding a new teacher for the upcoming year.  </p><p>"I'll drive you to the airport, though," Lexa said.  "So you don't have to pay to park your car for two weeks."</p><p>Clarke looked at her in surprise.  "Are you sure?  It's a pretty long drive."  <i>And it will take you farther from home than you've been in a very long time, and sometimes you can't even handle crossing the street.</i></p><p>"I'm sure," Lexa said.  "It gives me a few more hours with you, and I'll have Hope for company on the way back."</p><p>The dog perked up her ears at the sound of her name, her attention momentarily diverted from noisily gnawing on a rubber bone nearly as long as one of her legs.  When no command followed, she gave a soft woof then went back to the business of reducing the chew toy to little black bits they would find sprinkled throughout the house in the days... and weeks and months... to come.  </p><p>"She's a good girl," Clarke said.  </p><p>"Second best thing I ever got for Christmas," Lexa said.  </p><p>Clarke didn't need to ask what the first best thing was.  Lexa's lips against her hair, and then her cheek and neck and finally her mouth were answer enough.  Her breath caught as Lexa's pushed up her shirt and slid her hand under, but then she heard the sound of Hope's tail thumping, and when she looked over the dog was staring at them intently.  </p><p>Lexa followed her gaze and let out a huff of a laugh.  "Sometimes <i>too</i> good," she said.  Because it was almost certainly Clarke's gasp that had drawn her attention, and she'd looked up to make sure that it wasn't a noise of distress, and that it wasn't coming from Lexa, which would require her intervention if Clarke didn't have the situation in hand.  </p><p>When Clarke had brought Hope home to Lexa, she'd only thought it would be good for her to have something to focus on and take care of.  She hadn't really considered the possibility of Hope being trained as a service dog to help ease Lexa's interactions with the world... or to make her able to function in the world at all.  But from very early on, the pup had shown herself to be highly attuned to Lexa's moods, picking up on the tension in her body and the way she moved, the little tics that gave away when she was stuck in her own head, and she'd responded to it, pawing and nosing and sometimes nipping (they'd had to train her out of that) until Lexa paid attention to her.  </p><p>Really, she'd started training herself.  The biggest hurdle now was getting her used to being in public and keeping her focused on her job of taking care of Lexa when there were dozens of distractions around every corner.  That part had fallen largely to Clarke, and to a trainer they'd hired who was a veteran himself.  Hope was still learning – as evidenced by the fact that her vest sported the words 'IN TRAINING' under 'Service Dog' – but the difference she made in Lexa's life was nothing short of miraculous.  </p><p>"Maybe we should go to bed," Lexa suggested, even though the sun hadn't even hit the horizon.</p><p>Clarke couldn't think of a single reason to say no.</p>
<hr/><p>Lexa had to remind herself to keep Hope's leash loose in her hand as they walked into the airport.  Compared to other airports she'd been through, this one was a ghost town, but there were still more people than Lexa had dealt with all at once since she'd left the hospital for the last time.  She tensed as a man rushed past, the wheels of his suitcase nearly rolling over Hope's tail.  Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed—</p><p>"Lexa," Clarke said, at the same time Hope licked her fingers, and she took a deep breath, counting slowly as she let it out, and the fear-induced rage along with it.  </p><p>Clarke smiled, letting go of her hand to slip her arms around Lexa's waist, pulling them chest-to-chest.  "I love you," she murmured.  </p><p>"I love you too," Lexa said, slipping the loop of the leash around her wrist so she could put both arms around Clarke's shoulders.  "I'll be okay," she added, because she could see the doubt that was starting to creep in.  "It's only two weeks.  The time will fly by, and next thing you know, we'll be waiting right here to pick you up and bring you home."  </p><p>Lexa's insides turned to ice when she realized what she'd said, afraid that Clarke would correct her, tell her this wasn't home, or—</p><p>Clarke kissed her.  She kissed her for so long Lexa worried people might be staring, and for so long she stopped caring if they were.  She kissed her until the tension Lexa had been holding melted away, and she relaxed into Clarke's embrace.  </p><p>Clarke's lips brushed her ear as she hugged her one last time.  "I can hardly wait."</p><p>Lexa watched her walk away, waving when Clarke turned back to blow her a kiss before disappearing through security.  She bit her lip, clenching and releasing her hands for a second or two, then looked down at Hope, who was looking back up at her, waiting to see what happened next.  Lexa smiled.  "Come on," she said.  "We've got work to do."</p>
<hr/><p>"Hey Mom," Clarke said, and grunted at the force of her mother's sudden embrace.  They weren't the most affectionate people by nature – at least not with each other – but it had been a while since they'd last been in the same place at the same time, and maybe her mom had missed her more than Clarke had thought.  </p><p>"Hi sweetie," she said, relaxing her grip and inviting her to have a seat on the couch of her hotel suite.  She was still in the process of finding an apartment or condo – or letting the hospital where she'd been offered a job do it for her – but she'd asked Clarke to come visit anyway, rather than waiting until she'd settled in.  "How are you?"</p><p>"Good," Clarke said.  "I'm good."  </p><p>Her mom's head tilted slightly, like she wasn't sure whether to believe her.  "How's Lexa?"</p><p>"Better," Clarke said.  "I mean, she's getting better.  She finally found a therapist who takes her seriously, and who she doesn't hate – thanks for helping with that – so... yeah.  Some days are better than others, but I feel like there are more steps forward than backward."  She hadn't given her mother all of the details of Lexa's situation – her trauma and recovery (or lack thereof) – but she'd told her enough to have her pull some strings, reach out to some contacts, and get Lexa the help she so desperately needed that Clarke couldn't provide.  </p><p>"I'm glad to hear it," her mother said.  "I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't concerned when you first told me about her."  </p><p>"I know," Clarke said.  Her mother's tone had said more than her words did, and she hadn't been shy about voicing her doubts.  "But I love her, Mom."  </p><p>"I know you do," her mom said.  "I just... I guess I still worry that you're throwing yourself into the relationship because of your compulsive need to help people, to save them, rather than—"</p><p>Clarke bristled.  "And where do you think I got that from?" she asked.  </p><p>Her mother held up her hands in a pacifying gesture.  "I know.  It's the pot calling the kettle black.  Still, I—"</p><p>"She's saved me just as much as I've saved her," Clarke said.  "Literally and figuratively.  When I left my internship..."  Clarke shook her head.  "I know you think I was throwing away my life, my future, when I did that.  But I couldn't take it anymore.  It wasn't the right path for me.  I wasn't – I'm not tough enough.  I don't have a thick enough skin.  I care too much.  I don't know.  But when I left, I was a mess, and even after I finished school to become an art teacher, I was full of doubt.  Constantly second-guessing myself, wondering if you and everyone else had been right.  But I'm happy doing what I'm doing, and I'm happy being with her.  And the part of me that wants the world to make sense, for things to happen for a reason, tells me that the reason I ended up where I did was to meet her, to build a life and future with her that I never knew I wanted until it was staring me in the face."  </p><p>Her mother was quiet for a long time, looking at her and then not looking at her, and then looking at her again.  "Can you really imagine a future with her, though?" she asked.  "If she never gets any better than she is right now, or heaven forbid, she backslides to who and how she was when you met her, is that really the life you want?"</p><p>Clarke opened her mouth to snap at her, to tell her that of course it was what she wanted... but closed it again because, well, was it?  If Lexa didn't get any better, if she stayed stuck where she was, barely able to leave her property without risking a complete meltdown... was Clarke okay with her life being so small?  Not that Lexa would stop her from traveling if she wanted to, but she wouldn't come along, and even though Clarke liked to think she was a strong, independent woman who shouldn't have a problem traveling alone (and she <i>could</i> travel alone – she'd picked up her entire life and moved it to the middle of nowhere alone) she would still prefer to share new places with someone.  </p><p>With Lexa.  </p><p>"She's not going to stop getting better," Clarke said.  </p><p>"You don't know that," her mother said.  "Recovery from trauma, from PTSD, is—"</p><p>"I <i>do</i> know that," Clarke insisted.  </p><p>"How?" her mom asked.  </p><p>Clarke looked her right in the eye and gave her the answer that came from her heart, rather than her head: "Because she loves me, too."</p><p>But in her own hotel room that night, after a short phone call to Lexa that had ended after Lexa's second or third jaw-popping yawn, doubts began to creep in.  Not that Lexa loved her.  She was sure of that more than just about anything.  Not even that Lexa would continue to get better, when she'd made so much progress over the last few months, with Clarke and Hope there to support her any time she needed it.  No, the doubt that plagued her was whether or not she and Lexa were on the same page about building a future together.  Because despite sulking and pouting every time Clarke said she needed to go home for the night, and more than one conversation about how silly it was for Clarke to pay for a place she was in so seldom every room but her art studio had started to gather dust, Lexa had never once suggested any other arrangement.  Which led Clarke to believe that despite her protests, she liked having a space separate from Clarke, at least some of the time.  </p><p>On the other hand, Clarke had never suggested they change anything, either.  But that was different, she told herself.  She couldn't very well invite herself to move in with Lexa.  And there was no point in inviting Lexa to move in with her.  Lexa like the comfort of her own familiar four walls... and her wood stove and gas stove and generator...  But with two of them and a dog, there were times when it stopped feeling cozy and started to feel a little too snug.  </p><p>On the other other hand, it had only been a little over six months, and Lexa had been – and was still going through – a lot.  There was no need to rush into things when the arrangement they had worked perfectly well.  </p><p><i>Still,</i> she thought, as exhaustion began to get the better of her, <i>wouldn't it be nice to not have the write that rent check every month?</i></p>
<hr/><p>"There she is!" Lexa said, pointing to where Clarke was just coming through the gates after her flight.  Hope bounced to her feet, her tail wagging as Clarke closed the distance between them, colliding with Lexa and holding her so tight Lexa felt her ribs give just a little, and she tried not to groan.  Her entire body ached, but it wasn't the pain that had once crippled her, keeping her curled in her bed until the darkness in her head loosened its grip.  It was a good kind of ache.  The kind that came when you pushed your muscles to their limit, and maybe a little past.  The kind that left you stronger in its wake.  </p><p>"It's so good to see you!" Clarke said, leaning back to take Lexa's face between her hands, studying her like she was searching for anything that had changed in the weeks since they'd last seen each other.  "Looks like you've gotten some sun," she said, tapping the tip of Lexa's nose – which was a bit pink because she'd sweated off her sunscreen – and then tracing over the smattering of freckles that flecked her cheeks.  "You look good!"</p><p>"So do you," Lexa said, and Clarke did.  She looked... lighter, somehow.  Brighter.  Like going home had allowed her to let go of some things, maybe.  Or maybe it hadn't, and the relief was from being back here.  Back home.</p><p>Or maybe both.  Lexa hoped it was both.  </p><p>Clarke's lips found hers, and Lexa surrendered to the kiss, and the whispers of 'I love you' and 'I miss you' that were pressed between them, until Hope let out a short, sharp bark and Lexa had to drag herself away to give her a quick reminder that she needed to be quiet.</p><p>"I know you missed her too," Lexa said, "but you still have to behave in public."  She gestured for Hope to sit, and then to offer Clarke her paw.  Hope did as she was told, the picture of obedience, and after Clarke had crouched down to accept the shake, she relented.  "Okay," she said, releasing Hope from work mode for a few moments to allow her to greet Clarke with a flurry of dog kisses that left Clarke sputtering.  </p><p>"Let's get out of here," Clarke said, wiping her face on her sleeve.  "I want to go home."  </p><p>Lexa fought back a grin, leading her to the truck and loading her suitcase into the small back seat, then commanded Hope to hop in, making sure her harness was secured to her doggy seatbelt.  She climbed into her own seat and leaned across the console for another kiss... or two... or several... before putting the truck in gear and point them toward home.</p>
<hr/><p>"Why do I have to keep my eyes closed?" Clarke whined.  "I already know where we're doing!"</p><p>Lexa had been cagey the entire ride home.  Every time Clarke tried to ask what she'd been up to for the two weeks Clarke had been gone, she'd given a non-answer and changed the subject back to Clarke and her mom and her friends.  The only thing she'd given up was a few stories about funny things Hope had done that she hadn't told Clarke over the phone.  </p><p>"How do you know?" Lexa asked.  "What if I just keep driving?"</p><p>Clarke turned to look at her, and Lexa scowled and took one hand off the wheel to put it over Clarke's eyes.  "No peeking!" she said.  </p><p>Clarke sighed and closed her eyes, putting her own hand over them so Lexa would know she wasn't looking.  <i>Was</i> Lexa going to take her somewhere other than home?  Clarke couldn't imagine where she would take her... or why.  She fidgeted in her seat, anxious for the ride to be over.  </p><p>The car turned, then turned again, and came to a stop.  "Stay there," Lexa said.  Clarke heard her door open, and Lexa sliding out of her seat, then the door closed again.  A few seconds later, Clarke's door opened, and Lexa took her elbow.  "Careful," she said.  </p><p>"You know, if you would let me <i>look</i> I wouldn't need to be careful," Clarke pointed out.  </p><p>"Soon," Lexa said.  She released Hope from the back seat, and Clarke could hear the tags on her collar jingling as she danced in circles around them.  Clarke shuffled along at Lexa's side, stepping up when she was told, and waiting while she unlocked the door.  Lexa guided her over the threshold and a few steps in, then stood behind her and put her hands on Clarke's shoulders.  "Okay," she said.  "You can look now."</p><p>Clarke opened her eyes and blinked at the sudden brightness.  At first she thought Lexa had just opened the shades to let the sun in, but then she realized no, there were more windows than there had been before.  And then she realized there was more <i>house</i> than there had been before.  She turned to look at Lexa, then back at the room that had not existed two weeks ago.  </p><p>"Go on," Lexa said.  "Go look."</p><p>Clarke took a step forward, then another, and for a second she couldn't wrap her head around what she was seeing.  There was a table, and a sink, and cabinets and drawers, and an easel, and...  She turned to look at Lexa again.  "What did you do?" she asked.  </p><p>The light in Lexa's eyes flickered and died.  "I wanted to give you space," she said softly.  "Your own space.  To do your art.  Here."  She reached for her neck, then realized what she was doing and let her hand drop, digging her fingers into Hope's fur instead.  "I thought..."  She swallowed.  "You keep saying how you're paying for a place you never stay, so I thought if you had a place for your art here, maybe... you wouldn't have to..."  Her voice trailed off until it was barely a whisper by the end, and Clarke could see creases forming between her brows, the pinched look she got when her mind turned her body against her.  </p><p>Clarke knew she should go to her.  She <i>wanted</i> to go to her.  But she was frozen in place, caught between elation and terror, because what if Lexa wasn't saying what Clarke thought she was saying.  What if...</p><p>There was only one way to find out.</p><p>"Are you asking me to move in with you?" Clarke asked.  </p><p>Lexa winced, nodded.  "Yes.  I—"  She let out a sound that might have been a laugh, but it was sharp and brittle at the edges.  "I didn't want to let you go back at Christmas.  I never want to let you go.  But I couldn't ask then, it would have been too soon, and—"</p><p>"And I might have said yes," Clarke said, "before either of us were ready for it."  Her feet finally came unstuck from the floor and she wrapped her arms around Lexa's neck, pulling her down and kissing her.  "I'm ready now.  This is – you are – amazing.  I can't believe you did this.  In two weeks!"</p><p>"I had a lot of help," Lexa said.  "Turns out there are a lot of vets who end up working construction in the middle of nowhere.  Who knew?"  The lines in her face began to smooth out.  "So you like it?"</p><p>"I love it," Clarke said, kissing her again.  "I love it, and I love you, and I can't wait to tell my landlord I won't be renewing my lease after all."</p>
<hr/><p>Lexa slid her arm around Clarke's waist and pressed a kiss to her shoulder as she stood at the stove.  "Merry Christmas, love," she said, brushing her lips against Clarke's cheek when she turned to smile at her.  </p><p>"Merry Christmas," Clarke said.  "Cinnamon rolls are almost done."  </p><p>"How early did you wake up?" Lexa asked.  The sun was only just beginning to crest the horizon, streaking the snow outside in pastel shades.  What had been a riot of life and color – with Clarke insisting they needed flowers as well as a vegetable garden – over the summer was now blanketed in snow, but Lexa didn't mind.  Inside they were warm and cozy, even if the wood stove was working overtime to keep them that way.  </p><p>Clarke shrugged.  "I always woke up early on Christmas," she said, "and if I didn't, my father would wake me up.  I never grew out of it, I guess."  </p><p>"You could have woken me," Lexa said.  </p><p>Clarke shrugged again.  "I figured I would get breakfast started and wake you when I got to the parts that require more than two hands to get everything ready – and still warm – at the same time.  Which is right about now, so perfect timing."  She turned her attention away from the pan where she had been stirring chunks of potatoes to face Lexa fully, twining her arms around her neck and tipping her face up for a kiss.  "You can take over the potatoes while I start the eggs."  </p><p>Lexa wondered if she'd really been planning to wake her, or if she'd gotten it into her head to surprise Lexa with breakfast in bed.  If it was the latter, Lexa was glad she'd woken up, because staying in bed any longer than she had to – unless Clarke had convinced her to make it worth her while, which she was <i>very</i> good at – reminded her of the days when she couldn't manage to drag herself out of bed at all... or didn't want to.  Those days were few and far between now, and tended to only last a few hours before Hope started dragging the covers off her to force her up just so they didn't end up full of holes.  It wasn't a behavior Lexa had trained, and Clarke insisted she hadn't secretly done so either, but Lexa wasn't sure she believed her, because the alternative was that Hope had taught it to herself, and Lexa didn't know how she felt about living with a non-human who was that smart.  </p><p>Whatever Clarke's plans had been, Lexa was up now, and they switched places so Clarke could get to scrambling.  They moved around each other in a carefully choreographed dance they'd mastered over months of practice.  It was a rare morning when they weren't in the kitchen together, although on days when Clarke had to work it was usually something quick and easy, like oatmeal or cereal.  On weekends they got a little more elaborate, enjoying the time together that reminded them both of the best parts of those first days together.  </p><p>"You should let Hope out," Clarke said as she began to set the table.  </p><p>"You didn't let her out when you got up?" Lexa asked.  She was surprised the dog wasn't frantically tugging on the string of bells that hung from the doorknob, which she used to signal when she needed to go out.  (Which had been easy to teach her.  What had been harder was training her that it was <i>only</i> to be used for potty emergencies, and not when she just wanted to go out and run around.)  </p><p>"I did, but then she drank a lot of water," Clarke said.  "I figure it's better to let her out now than to get interrupted in the middle of breakfast."  </p><p>Lexa conceded the point and went to bundle herself up in boots and jacket and hat and scarf and everything else one needed at this time of year before even considering opening the door.  She called for Hope, who seemed perfectly content in her new doggy bed (an early Christmas gift) near the fire and none too keen to go outside and face the cold.  But she was a good dog, and she knew her place was at Lexa's side any time Lexa left the house, so she got up and joined her, stepping daintily into the snow at Lexa's command to 'get busy'.  </p><p>As soon as she was done – and it had been barely a trickle – she was right back at Lexa's feet, and Lexa reached down to brush a few flakes from her nose before opening the door again.  Hope pushed past her, making a beeline for her warm nook, but skidded to a halt when Lexa told her, "Wait!"  </p><p>"Hope, come," she said, and Hope returned to her side.  Lexa made her come back outside, and worked her through politely entering the house again.  Even at home, and even on Christmas, Lexa knew she couldn't allow her to forget her manners.  She used a towel to dry off Hope's paws, then planted a kiss on the top of her head.  "Okay," she said, releasing her.  Hope gave her a quick kiss on the chin, then danced off to resume working on annihilating her new chew toy.  </p><p>Lexa unwrapped herself from all her layers, easing her feet into her slippers, which she was honestly surprised weren't on Clarke's feet.  (A new pair that was actually Clarke's size waited under the tree.)  She scuffed back into the kitchen and blinked when she saw what Clarke had done in what she'd thought was only a brief absence.  </p><p>The table was set with the Christmas dishes Clarke had dug out of her bins of holiday stuff, and even though the kitchen was bright enough with the sun coming in through the windows, she'd lit candles that sat surrounded by branches of pine and holly.  </p><p>"It's beautiful," Lexa said, sliding her arms around Clarke again and kissing her in the kitchen doorway, because there was mistletoe hung above it and those were the rules.  </p><p>"You're beautiful," Clarke countered.  "Come eat before the food gets cold."</p><p>But when Lexa looked, there was no food on the plate at her place on the table.  Instead, there was a small box, wrapped and tied with a bow.  "What's...?"  </p><p>"Open it and find out," Clarke said.  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and Lexa felt butterflies beginning to take flight.  Clarke loved giving gifts – from a perfectly formed daisy she'd found while they walked Hope to a beautiful painting of the cabin cloaked in snow that now hung above the mantel and everything in between – but she didn't usually look like she was ready to jump out of her own skin when she gave them.  </p><p> Lexa picked up the box and carefully untied the bow, then picked at the tape to loosen the paper, which was beautiful and she was sure Clarke could find a future use for it, either in her own art or at school with the kids.  She lifted the lid of the burgundy box and found another, smaller box.</p><p>A hinged black velvet box, of the sort you usually found jewelry in, just the right size for—</p><p>Her hands started to shake and she looked at Clarke, air trapped in her chest and she couldn't push it in or out past the lump in her throat.  Her lips shaped Clarke's name, but there was no sound.  </p><p>"Do you need me to finish opening it for you?" Clarke asked.  </p><p>Lexa nodded.  </p><p>Clarke took the box from her and tipped open the lid, revealing what Lexa had suspected – hoped – feared – it might be.  A ring, simple and elegant, glittering in the morning light.  She lowered herself to one knee, removing the ring from the box and offering it up.  "Lexa, will you marry me?"</p><p>A moment passed, or a lifetime, and Lexa just looked down at the woman at her feet, who was putting herself out there, offering herself – her heart, her soul, her life, everything she was – up for Lexa to accept or reject, and Lexa knew the answer.  She knew, but—</p><p><i>But what?</i> Anya demanded, and it had been so long, <i>so</i> long, a year now since Lexa had heard her voice, except in old videos she'd finally retrieved from a phone she'd long since stopped using, that it brought tears to her eyes to hear it... even if it was just in her head.  <i>If you know the answer, what the hell are you waiting for?</i></p><p><i>Costia,</i> Lexa gasped, and she hoped it wasn't out loud, god, let it not be out loud, but she couldn't see Clarke's face anymore because the whole world had gone watery.  <i>I can't—</i></p><p><i>You can, love,</i> Costia told her.  <i>You love her, don't you?</i></p><p><i>Yes,</i> Lexa said, and it no longer hurt to admit it, even to the woman who she had loved so much for not nearly long enough. </p><p><i>You want to spend the rest of your life with her, don't you?</i> Costia asked.  <i>When she's with you, you feel alive.  You feel like you want to be part of the world again.  Even if getting there is a work in progress, you want it.  Right?</i></p><p><i>Yes,</i> Lexa said.  No matter how hard it was, no matter how much it sometimes hurt... the pain of living was so much easier to bear with Clarke at her side, and she would take it any day – every day – over the agony of wishing she wasn't alive at all.  </p><p><i>Then shit or get off the pot, Lex!</i> Costia said, laughter in her voice that only Lexa could hear.  <i>Your future wife is waiting for an answer.</i></p><p>Lexa nodded.  She nodded, and once she started, she couldn't stop.  She held out her hands, which were shaking as she gripped Clarke and pulled her up, pulled her in and pressing her face into the side of her neck, still nodding, her tears soaking into the collar of Clarke's flannel that used to be Lexa's.  She breathed in the scent of her – woodsmoke and cinnamon and paint – and felt the dam in her chest finally break.</p><p>"Yes," she whispered.  She lifted her head and rested her forehead against Clarke's temple.  "Yes, I'll marry you."</p>
<hr/><p>Clarke's eyes filled with tears to match Lexa's, but her cheeks ached from how wide her mouth had to stretch to accommodate her smile.  It had only been a second or two, maybe not even that, but she'd seen the moment when Lexa slipped away, disappeared inside herself like she hadn't in a long time, and her heart had clenched, thinking maybe she'd pushed just a little too hard, taken things too far, too soon, and—</p><p>And then Lexa had come back to herself, nodding and pulling Clarke up and holding her until she finally said the word Clarke had realized she didn't just want but <i>needed</i> to hear: "Yes.  Yes, I'll marry you."</p><p>Clarke took Lexa's face between her hands and kissed her, then realized she was still holding the ring.  She kissed her again, then took her hand and slid it into place.  Lexa's fingers closed around her own, and for a moment they both just stared at in quiet awe and wonder, because who would have thought that a stranger waking her up with the scrape of a snow shovel would lead to this?  </p><p>"I love you so much," Clarke whispered.  "Lexa..."</p><p>Lexa looked at her, her eyes so brilliantly bright it was almost hard to look directly at them, but it was just as hard to look away.  "I love you too, Clarke," she said, and nuzzled her nose until she tipped up her lips for another kiss, and another, and another until they were both breathless.</p><p>"You know what else I love?" Lexa asked.  </p><p>"What?" Clarke asked.  </p><p>"Breakfast."</p><p>Clarke laughed and picked up the plates, quickly arranging food on them and setting them on the table.  </p><p>Lexa looked down and started to laugh.  "I'm happy to see you, too," she said, and picked up her fork.</p>
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